Ordinary Oddity
by crazy.jo.march
Summary: After loosing his job at hospital John starts to discover some exciting facts about his feelings.
1. Chapter 1

John woke up early this morning. His back was killing him and the bed suddenly became uncomfortable. He blamed stress for all of that. But not excess of it, no, he lacked it. How Sherlock shouted in every moment he could "Boring!".

Yes, John was perfectly bored. Felt left alone as his flatmate got himself busy with lab work and spend all day at St. Bart's trying to figure out some cold cases. He got himself files from a (Sherlock's exact words) "friend from the archives". John was sure he intimidated or blackmailed the poor man in order to get some distraction from absolute lack of work they had lately.

Last week John found himself walking round the apartment treading out carpet-paths between bed, telly and fridge. His girlfriend- Kate decided they should split up last Wednesday and Stanford left for short holidays so since last weekend he wasn't out for beer or walk or even out to buy groceries- he ate chinese or pulled the frozen food from between body parts and other flesh or chemical samples from the freezer .

He sat all day in living room apathetic and lazy, he energized only when miss Hudson came by with tea and lunch (obviously she was worried about John's lousy psychical condition) and when Sherlock was getting back home. Usually excited, briefly talked John through his new developments eating rest of chinese and flee to his bedroom.

Today seemed no different than always. John got down to kitchen to pour himself a cold tea- Sherlock must've left very early in the morning because cattle was stone-cold. He heard the door slam.

"Put your clothes on John!" Sherlock exclaimed with a happy voice which- accept of it's timbre- would better suit a child " I solved this case! Wasn't too easy this time! Let's go grab something to eat, shall we?"

John stared at Sherlock with a bored look on his face.

"Oh great" he spoked with irony " I feel so happy for you! So now as you're back full of energy you can clean up the mess that you left in the kitchen and hoover the living room"

"What?"

"...clean up the mess..."

"No, no, no " he said taking off his coat and throwing it on the armchair that John intended to seat on "I'm perfectly aware of what you just said. I'm just wondering what happened that you're so..."

"What have happened?" John shouted angrily " Happened? Nothing happened you blind idiot! Nothing is happening, nothing at all! The last week I spend inventing new fascinating ways of sitting on the couch. I'm glad you got yourself distracted from the absolute boredom but I'm bored Sherlock! BORED! BORED!" he yelled spilling the tea on the carpet.

When he finished he stood relaxed, red on face and fast pulse, but he felt fantastic!

"Oh" Sherlock took a step forward his flatmate and observe him with his bright blue eyes wide open "That's interesting. You are angry at me for not giving you the usual entertainment. But you've got your laptop and telly- isn't that what people like you do when they're bored?"

"People like me?" John asked calmly " You mean simple, little-brained blokes like me?"

He didn't feel offended by that- he got used to that little things Sherlock didn't mean to say... well he meant it but he didn't want to harm. But John intentionally provoked the fight. He felt fantastic- best in weeks! Having Sherlock stared at him, trying to crack what this is all about. Having his attention, the whole of it not divided between him and some dead bloke lying in the mortuary. What an amusement!

"Come on" Sherlock took a step back "You know I didn't mean to offend you, just pointing out obvious ones" he smiled "Now stop the nonsense and change your clothes we're going out!" said giving John a little nudge in the belly.

Something was seriously wrong, John found himself provoking a beautiful argument that wasn't even taken seriously and getting a poke like a little child.

"Going out?" John asked hiding his nervousness.

"Precisely!" said Sherlock heading to the kitchen to get himself a cup of tea. He seemed even happier than when he got home.

"Oh sweet. So have fun and send me a postcard."

John drank the rest of the tea put the cup on the coffee table and left upstairs to his room. When he closed the door he felt strange. The whole situation seemed stupid to him now, he acted like a child he deserved depreciating nudge, but still his pulse was raised and he felt weird, the mixture of happiness, anticipation, shame and anger. What was wrong about that day?

* * *

Hello!

I rewrote that story I uploaded here like a year ago (I deleted the other version) and added second chapter (working on more, yay!). It's still my first fanficton for now rating is low it's gonna get higher. Planning about 5 chapters as for now it is WIP.

I would love you forever if you would tell me what you think about it! So... if you want to review don't stop yourselves ;)

love you all!

]o]o

(unbe


	2. Chapter 2

He decided to leave the matter be and cool down. It's totally normal he tried to use this situation as an excuse to entertain himself. After all he's been left alone for almost a week, treated like some god-damn housewife. Okay, it's not like Sherlock owe him attention, but after all John has done for him he could at least return a favour. Everybody from time to time need a little affection...

'Attention, John' he corrected his thoughts covering his eyes. Where was his mind at? He couldn't get a hold of it. Desperately needed something completely different to think of. He looked on the night stand. Under few newspapers and crosswords (he always hides here when he wants to solve one -he knows it's not like, the most brain-building exercise, but it's still healthy for a mind- but the bastard always knows. If John would get a nickel every time his crazy-ass sociopath of a flatmate casually mentions 'Oh, by the way John, the word you couldn't guess in your little mind-puzzle last night is 'affranchisement'. I really though you should know it, if not because you are educated than maybe because you fought in Afghanistan. Wasn't it what this whole war was about?' ) lied a book he started reading few months ago, but couldn't finish. It was some sort of semi-complicated detective story his sister bought him for Christmas (_'I know you've got a soft spot for this shitty thrillers. You bloody live with one. xoxo Harry'_), but for some reason the last part of the year was quite 'busy in the business' so he felt like he have got enough crime in his real life to read about it at nights. But now... maybe he will feel better with some mystery to solve. He sat comfortably on his bed and started reading.

Two hours later he really got into a plot. He liked the way the story was written and it was somewhat possible (most of the time), when he heard light knocking at his door. Something changed certainly, Sherlock started knocking, he felt a little victory, like in those moments when he taught his uncle's basset to do the trick and he finally understood and repeated it.

'Fantastic' he thought 'so now I think of Sherlock as a dog. Where will it end? In me lightly patting his head when he will lick my...'

'What?' he shouted with irritation. Most of it was misplaced for he just really felt annoyed with his mind and it's ways of thinking not the knocking itself.

'Can I come in? It's been two hours and approximately 12 minutes as you sit here. At first I assumed you came up to change your clothing, because as you know, your attire lies somewhere in-between homeless and widowed, and, as I know, you are neither, but it took too long, even if you would be trying to make yourself look extra spectacular, forty minutes seemed efficient. So after that time I decided you came here to cool off, and do whatever you normally do to let the steam off and relax, but John. It's been too long and I'm hungry can you please come out so we can go out and eat?'

'I can't. I'm reading. You can call for the takeout if you want' John resumed reading.

The door opened and Sherlock came into the room. He looked pale and John felt a stab of guilt as if one skipped meal could do this to him. But he still felt bad, what was he here for if not to make sure this bloody idiot won't starve himself to death or do something equally stupid and even messier?

'Oh, come on John, this book is totally ridiculous. The boss of the company killed those girls, after his father tough him how. This … girl ran away and lived under different name, and it's all so wonderfully boring and predictable. This hacker character seem like cut out from a different novel and the main protagonist is lazy, stupid and terribly bad at what he's doing' he took a deep breath 'Just get out of that bed already and come out with me!'

Now John was angry and he had a hella good reason. This tall dark-haired slenderman-like creature came into his room and spoiled perfectly nice book, perfectly nice evening and his humour completely. He should really prepare to suffer.

'You bloody idiot!' he stood up, throwing his book on the bed and standing breath away from Sherlock. Angry and (well yes, also) hungry. ' You can't just spoil ending like this! You come home every day this weekend looking rather entertained and when I bloody find myself something interesting to do you just spoil it for me. You are really insufferable...'

'So what you're planning to do? Divorce me?' said Sherlock with his most ironic eye-roll.

'What are you talking about?' John felt breathless. What was this game? Has he fell asleep or maybe something hit Sherlock in the head with a great force (if the last one, he really wish he held it) 'I'm not gay!'

'Well what that has to do with anything? You always guard it like it's some great achievement, but what I meant is you act like all of those 'locked-in-house' wives from sitcoms you made me watch, so you deserved to be treated like one' his friend answered smiling.

Fantastic, so now he, again, though it's just a good joke.

'Listen, Sherlock. It's not all about you. That's one. I've got now a bit of rough time, you should respect it and know what it's like. I never forced you to watch telly, you can do whatever you want. We both live here, but it's not like we are together so you could actually clean the flat from time to time, maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't treat me like 50's wife then'.

'No, no, no.' Sherlock seemed lost ' I must've got it right, just shut up John!' He seemed angry now. ' You are not a 50's wife, you are, in fact, blind and scared. I am quite unsocial person. I'm the Sherlock Holmes and I'm never out of my element. But then there's you! And you are even worst...'

'Funny, that one' said John through clenches teeth. 'You call yourself sociopath and you say I'm worst. Just hilarious. I, at least, have some relationships with people!'

'Oh, you do' answered Sherlock calmly standing straight. He seemed like made of marble, with his tense posture and cold eyes. 'Just the ones you're not interested in maintaining. John, goodnight, it would be very healthy for you if you woke up feeling a little bit less of a martyr than you do now, and I strongly advise you to really think about your relationships...'

'And that comes from you!' John chuckled nervously wanting nothing more than just to punch this idiotic man or bite off his nose or do something else, but bloody and of criminal nature.

'Yes, that should give you plenty to think about' his friend answered and lowered his head. They were now just a millimetres away, face to face. John standing straight and proud, angry, with clenched fists and Sherlock gently leaning, his body now relaxed. His eyes bluer than ever, even wormer. John couldn't remember last time they stood like this, possibly after last month case when they helped Lestrade find a killer. Standing near the police car waiting for detectives to do their job and something brought them close. He ought to think it was just fatigue that made him lean closer to his friend, just cold that moved Sherlock's arms around him, hiding him in the coat. He remember the warm feeling, the strange hint of belonging he haven't felt since his parents died. His sister always told him 'Some girl will wrap you 'round her finger if she will just find a way to make you feel taken-care-of, huh? That would be a twist!'

That would be a twist indeed.

John's breath hitched. He was scared (Sherlock was right) and awfully aware of what he tried not to see. Warm hand touched his hip and brought him a little closer to a strong, lean body. He followed, let himself be guided, still unsure, then Sherlock smiled a bit and kissed him on the lips. Just a peck, just a teaser. The kind of warm kiss he always gave his girlfriends as a reassurer 'It's all fine. I'm right here'.

He noticed he closed his eyes, opened it with hurry, he felt other Sherlock's hand touch his face softly. Fingers skimmed under his eye and closer to the lips, just wandering. Stopped on his mouth and then vanished replaced by his lips again. This time with just a bit of a force and just a taste of the tongue. Then this fantastic cushion-like mouth smiled and that was it. Sherlock turned around and left.

John heard the footsteps down the stairs, the opening of the doors and later the crack of the main entrance.

He felt like Alice in Wonderland, he had to much things to think of, he needed some sleep and he desperately needed it now.

* * *

OK! So this is the second chapter... it's kinda cliffhangery but not much, trust me I wouldn't hurt them... I think.

So? Is it readable?

(again, all embarrassing mistakes are mine, no beta, and I'm the only editor so I'm afraid it may contain quite a lot of mistakes. For that my darlings I apologies!

Love ya,

]o]o


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